


contact drunk

by myn_x



Series: SportsFest'18 BR Fills [8]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Bartender Kuroo Tetsurou, Bouncer Daichi, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 05:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15284907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myn_x/pseuds/myn_x
Summary: written for aBR2 prompt:“The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.”- Oscar Wilde, "The Picture of Dorian Gray"





	contact drunk

**Author's Note:**

> written for a [BR2 prompt](https://sportsfest.dreamwidth.org/8539.html?thread=992347#cmt992347):
> 
> “The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.”  
> \- Oscar Wilde, "The Picture of Dorian Gray"

"Half of tonight's bunch aren't even drunk."

Tetsurou  _had_  been talking about something more interesting -- if the effects of alcohol on the human brain down to the molecular level could be counted as interesting -- so he pretends he doesn't know why he switches gears to point out the obvious. 

It's simple cause and effect. 

The cause? Sawamura Daichi. Or more specifically, Sawamura Daichi and his ridiculously warm brown eyes. They're usually cold, but not for the brief moments they're fixed on Tetsurou from across the room. Or so Tetsurou would like to think, if he could think at all.

Because the effect is that Tetsurou's mouth moves faster than his brain does. 

Tetsurou considers it his curse. It's like being drunk but without having any alcohol, which would be neat if not for current circumstances. 

So it had caught him off guard when Sawamura had decided to stay at the bar after his shift at the door. The reaction intensifies exponentially the closer Sawamura gets. 

Now, only wood and marble separate Sawamura from where Tetsurou stands behind the counter.

Now, instead of putting a lid on it, like Tetsurou knows he should, he just keeps talking, like he knows he shouldn't. 

"As much as they act like they are...Even the regulars. I remember every drink I've poured, and I adjusted some of the ratios on purpose."

"Well don't tell the boss man that," Sawamura says, throwing a sidelong glance in Tetsurou's direction, the first sign that he'd been paying Tetsurou any attention at all. 

He's leaning back with his elbows propped on the bar counter, and before he's done speaking his gaze has already slid back to the crowded room. 

Tetsurou tuts at him and rubs furiously at the pilsner glass in his hands as if it, and not the man before him, were responsible for the fog in his brain. He eases up after a second, though, because he's broken too many glasses in too similar a manner. 

"As many nights as I work here, I have to keep myself occupied somehow. Tonight's just an experiment."

That earns Tetsurou a raised brow, but a group of newcomers about his own age steals Tetsurou's chance to lure Sawamura in for another twenty minutes. It takes a while to sort out their drinks, but they came loaded and ready to tip, so Tetsurou can't really complain as he pours and shakes and slides glasses to their respective owners. 

From the corner of his eye, Tetsurou watches Sawamura watch the room filled with not-as-drunk-as-they're-pretending-to-be bargoers. Even at ease, his body language screams  _Danger!_ , despite switching off with Iwaizumi nearly half an hour ago. 

Sawamura's dark silhouette cuts into the edge of Tetsurou's vision; he's always been impossible to  _not_  look at, with that brooding expression and how his clothes stretch taut over the hard lines of his body. While Tetsurou wishes it were just Sawamura's eyes that turned his brain to mush, they’re the only soft thing about him. 

Not to mention the endless crop of black t-shirts that hug the bulges of Sawamura’s biceps just enough to intimidate  _and_  tantalize, and the close fit of his dark wash jeans, which leave little to nothing to the imagination. 

Damn Sawamura Daichi, and damn his dastardly good looks. 

Tetsurou sends the group off to a empty corner booth with a half-hearted cheer. Though he wasn't lying when he said he'd tweaked some of the drinks tonight, he hadn't meant to mess up the last bunch. It bothers him that he did, and it bothers him even more that it was because he'd been too aware of Sawamura, his silence the loudest noise in the room, demanding his attention.

There's a lull at the counter. Tetsurou swallows and pulls at the collar of his button down. Not counting those who  _were_  actually inebriated, Tetsurou's heat signature has to be the brightest in the room. And almost all of it is concentrated in his cheeks. 

If Sawamura were a liquor, he'd be a fine bourbon, and maybe Tetsurou can't help being a little contact drunk. 

But that's silly. There's no such thing as being contact drunk, not even a little.

“Ah, to be young and care-free.” Tetsurou isn’t surprised when it falls flat, so he clears his throat and tries again. "So don't tell me you're hanging out for our infamous tap water."

He says it while looking at the almost-empty glass at Sawamura's elbow, thinking his headstone should read something like,  _Kuroo Tetsurou, King of Finesse._  

It works, kinda, because Sawamura turns to face him, his eyes like honey. It's just...he looks gently confused, like he wants to play along but finds it taxing. 

"What?" Tetsurou points an accusatory finger at the glass. "You're skewing my data!"

Sawamura looks at his water, then back up at Tetsurou before settling down on the stool directly in front of Tetsurou. "Am I, really? I'm not putting on the wasted act, so I don't think I count." 

"Ah, so you were listening." Tetsurou busies himself with rinsing the drinkware in the sink to disguise his excitement at snagging Sawamura's attention. Feigning nonchalance, Tetsurou continues, "I don't get why people go out just to get a little buzzed and act wayyy worse off."

"Maybe they don't want to pay for the real thing," Sawamura says with a shrug. He drags a finger through the drops of condensation on the counter, and Tetsurou swears internally, because even his hands are beautiful. "But they also want to have a good time."

Tetsurou smirks. "It's a money thing, eh? What if I made you something, on the house."

"Oh, no, I wasn’t talking about myself.”

Tetsurou deflates like a punctured balloon. 

“Plus, I'm not sure I can trust you to give me your best, not with the things I know about you," Sawamura pauses and leans forward, close, closer, too close, and Tetsurou is drowning in bourbon.

 _Unfair_ , Tetsurou muses,  _to think that this had all started with those eyes_. "Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou."

“Kuroo.” His name rolls off Sawamura’s tongue in a near whisper. There’s a twinkle of challenge in Sawamura’s eyes as he says it, and Tetsurou perks back up again. 

“I'll let you watch. How's it, Sawamura, a genuine drink for a genuine good time.” 

Like clockwork that needs oiling, Kuroo’s brain takes a moment to catch up with his mouth, and by then he’s realized his mistake. 

“Oh, damn, I asked and Iwaizumi told me your name.”

Sawamura chuckles, low and rough enough that Tetsurou has to laugh, too, to stifle a pathetic groan. 

“Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner, then. I’ll make it up to you by taking you up on your offer.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://fucklev.tumblr.com) || [twitter](https://twitter.com/lovedeluxxxe)


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